


New Faces

by lucycourageous



Series: Sun and Moon [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Eldritch, Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Mythology and Folklore, Poor Ethan, the twins as weird uncanny babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycourageous/pseuds/lucycourageous
Summary: When Ethan Frye returned home from India, he'd expected his children to be bewildered at best, rebellious and suspicious at worst. But even that fell utterly short of what really awaited him: a couple of half-feral imps who seem to be able to communicate with each other without speaking, who are slipperier than eels, more devious than a pack of foxes and far stranger than he could have imagined.
Relationships: Ethan Frye & Evie Frye & Jacob Frye
Series: Sun and Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127885
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	New Faces

**Author's Note:**

> The uncanniness continues! Feat. Ethan "Sad, Tired and Confused" Frye

Ethan knew things weren't going to be easy when he returned from India.

After six years away, all he knew of his children came from what their grandmother and George had reported in their letters; tiny fragments of information which Ethan had to assemble piece by piece. Though on the surface, it sounded as though the twins’ personalities were at odds – where Evie was quiet and studious and sly, Jacob was loud and energetic and brash – they were united by a shared devotion to each other, and a shared talent for causing trouble. 

Young though they still were, there had been a distinctly worried tone to George’s correspondence towards the end of Ethan’s time in India, and when he finally decided it was time to return home, he’d set out for England determined to give his children everything they needed to become strong, responsible members of the Brotherhood; no matter how difficult a task that turned out to be. 

He’d expected them to be bewildered at best at being confronted with the sudden appearance of a father they’d never met, rebellious and suspicious at worst. But even that fell utterly short of what really awaited him: a couple of half-feral imps who seem to be able to communicate with each other without speaking, who are slipperier than eels, more devious than a pack of foxes and far stranger than he could have imagined. 

He’s heard the stories of Assassins with unusual powers of perception, and there were rumours among his family that some of his ancestors possessed the gift – but he never thought it would manifest itself in his children. He can’t deny the truth of it though, not when his six year old son can apparently see through walls, able to predict with unfailing accuracy when someone is coming up the path towards the front door, regardless of where he is in the house at the time. 

Evie is far more cunning than her brother, too clever to draw outright attention to her unusual abilities, so it’s something of a shock when, on an outing into town, she tugs at his sleeve and informs him that there’s a man waiting for them around the next corner and that he has a knife hidden up his sleeve. The man in question is of course a fellow Assassin, but there’s no way Evie could have known he had a meeting planned for that day, and Ethan has to supress an uneasy shiver as he sends her to wait with Jacob. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if that were the worst of it. Unfortunately, it’s not. 

Jacob seems to have some kind of affinity with animals, especially birds. Eagles, hawks, crows, even sparrows and robins circle overhead when he’s out of doors, as if they’re keeping watch over him. Ethan’s almost envious: he’d probably be able to keep Jacob out of a lot more mischief if he could get a bird’s eye view on him at all times. For the most part, Jacob seems to ignore them, apparently taking their presence as a matter of course; but once or twice Ethan’s spotted him standing at the end of the garden with a bird perched on one thin wrist, its head cocked as though listening intently to the boy as he speaks, low and hushed. 

It’s baffling, and Jacob is even more evasive than he normally is when questioned about it. Ethan would almost think he’s using the animals to send messages, if not for the fact that his son doesn’t have anyone to send messages to. Plus, he’s fairly sure that wild falcons don’t make the best messenger birds. 

Several days later, though, he hears strange tidings of a group of local thugs, well-known in the area for menacing the poor and vulnerable, being mobbed by a murder of crows. He watches Jacob carefully as he casually drops the story into a conversation with George, noting the small, satisfied smirk on his son's face…but even then the idea is too ridiculous to entertain, and besides, Ethan has other things to worry about: Evie's sleepwalking for example. 

She looks like a wraith in the darkness of the corridor, her long hair dark against her white nightdress, her eyes moving restlessly beneath closed lids as she dreams. Normally, he manages to catch her before she can go anywhere and often she doesn’t even wake as he guides her back up the stairs to her bedroom. But then one night, when the moon is full and bright outside his frost-limned window, he dozes off at his desk. 

When he wakes a few hours later, it’s with a distinct feeling of unease. It wasn’t any specific sound that woke him, at least as far as he can tell, but he hasn’t lasted this long as an Assassin without developing an instinct for danger. Getting silently to his feet, he leans out of his office, his hackles raised and suddenly very aware of the two children sleeping upstairs. 

Or rather, the one child sleeping upstairs. 

Evie is standing halfway up the staircase, bathed in moonlight, almost glowing with it, and he has to blink, momentarily dazzled by the brightness. Then his vision clears and he sees that her feet are bare, smeared with mud and dead leaves, and worse, that her lips are blue with cold. With a cry of alarm that he can’t quite stifle, he hurries to her, wrapping his arms around her frozen shoulders in an effort to warm her up, noticing as he does so that there are a myriad of tiny cuts and nicks on her arms, as if she’s been running through dense undergrowth. 

Jacob appears behind him without warning, and before Ethan can do anything, he’s taken Evie’s hands in his and is staring intently into her face. Ethan can’t describe what happens exactly, but it feels like a rush of energy, a sudden concentration of will; Jacob’s hair moves in a breeze that he can’t feel and somewhere in the dark, an owl lets out a piercing shriek. 

Evie’s eyes flutter open. She looks dazed, distant, like she’s half in another world. Ethan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that she turns to Jacob for reassurance rather than him. 

“Where am I?” 

“Home,” Jacob says softly, “look, here’s Father.” 

Evie blinks up at him. Looking at her, Ethan finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that Cecily were here. Of the two of them, his wife was always the more open-minded, raised as she was in the depths of the Welsh countryside by a mother who still left out saucers of milk for the fairy folk. In the face of mounting evidence that whatever his children are, it’s something more than human, he feels her absence more than ever. 

“Are you alright, Evie?” 

She nods and Jacob takes over. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help her get cleaned up and into bed. She’ll be fine.” His voice, though still unbroken and child-like, is firm and decisive; it’s almost like catching a glimpse of the man he’ll one day be. And the funny thing is that Ethan believes him. Though Evie looked near-hypothermic moments ago, her cheeks are already turning pink and she’s looking more alert by the second. 

“Very well.” 

It’s difficult to look at them all of a sudden, and not just because he can already catch glimpses of Cecily in the point of Evie’s chin, or the fall of Jacob’s hair. Both of them have eyes that see too much, and he so desperately doesn’t want them to see his fear: fear for them and…perhaps fear _of_ them, too. So he focuses on his love for them instead, a feeling so raw that it's more like pain than anything else, and presses a palm clumsily to each of their cheeks, hoping that the meaning is clear, even without words.

A faint hush falls, like a withheld breath, as Evie runs tentative fingertips over the ridge of his knuckles and Jacob grips his wrist. For a moment that unearthly glimmer in their eyes seems to fade and they are just children. 

“Off you go then.” 

After they’ve gone up the stairs, he paces around his study, waiting until the house settles back into silence and he’s sure they must be in bed before collapsing into an armchair and a thin, uneasy sleep. 

The next morning there is next to no trace of the night’s adventure: the cuts on Evie’s arms have all but vanished, she's as bright and alert as ever, and if anything, more cheerful than normal. The only evidence Ethan can find to prove that it wasn’t just a dream are the traces of mud and leaves in the hallway – and with weak sunlight filtering through the windows, it’s easy to imagine that they’ve been there for days. 

He gives the twins a new set of historical dates to memorise and goes out to speak with George. There must be something in his eyes, a look on his face that gives him away, because his friend and protégé’s glance turns knowing at once. 

“Full moon last night, wasn’t it.” 

“Yes. Does she always-?”

“Not always,” George says, shaking his head, “but it’s worse then. Once she disappeared while I was visiting and I spent half the night out looking for her. She managed to get a full five miles into the countryside before I caught up with her. Her grandmother nearly died of worry.” 

Ethan stares, “You never mentioned that in your letters. Or Jacob…or any of it.” 

He lifts an eyebrow, disbelieving, “It’s not exactly the sort of thing you can put down on paper. You would have thought I’d lost my mind, Ethan.” 

…It’s a fair point. 

“Do you sometimes feel like they can see…?” He presses a hand to his chest, unsure how to finish, but George seems to understand. 

He reaches out and clasps Ethan’s shoulder, a firm, comforting pressure, “Yes. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
